Marie Still’s latest psychological horror masterpiece doesn’t just unsettle readers—it completely dismantles their sense of what’s real and what’s delusion. “Bad Things Happened in This Room” is a devastating exploration of grief, postpartum psychosis, and the cruel ways our minds protect us from unbearable truths by constructing elaborate prisons of denial.
A Descent Into Psychological Terror
The novel follows Willow Hawthorne, who believes herself trapped in a house by her controlling husband Liam’s rigid rules. Her only connection to the outside world comes through visits from a mysterious girl named Sarah who appears in her garden. But as the wallpaper begins peeling away to reveal disturbing messages carved into the walls, Willow must confront whether she’s truly a prisoner of her home—or of her own fractured psyche.
Still demonstrates remarkable restraint in her storytelling approach. Rather than relying on gore or supernatural elements, she crafts horror from the most terrifying source of all: the unreliable narrator’s own mind. The author masterfully weaves together three narrative threads—Willow’s present-day confusion, fragmented memories of her past, and the clinical reality of her situation—creating a literary house of mirrors where truth becomes increasingly elusive.
The prose itself mirrors Willow’s mental state, shifting between lyrical beauty and jarring disconnection. Still’s writing flows like poetry when describing Willow’s garden sanctuary, then fractures into staccato fragments during moments of psychological breakdown. This stylistic choice isn’t merely aesthetic—it becomes an integral part of the horror experience, making readers feel as disoriented as the protagonist.
Character Development Through Fragmentation
Willow emerges as one of the most complex unreliable narrators in recent psychological horror. Still avoids the trap of making her protagonist simply “crazy”—instead, she presents a woman whose mind has constructed an elaborate protective mechanism against unbearable trauma. The gradual revelation of Willow’s true circumstances unfolds with devastating precision.
The supporting characters exist primarily through Willow’s distorted perceptions, which creates an additional layer of uncertainty. Liam transforms from protective husband to possible captor to grieving widower, depending on which lens we view him through. Sarah, the mysterious child, serves as both hope and haunting reminder of what was lost.
Themes That Cut Deep
The novel’s exploration of maternal grief stands as its most powerful achievement. Still doesn’t shy away from the darkest aspects of postpartum mental health, treating the subject with both clinical accuracy and profound empathy. The author’s portrayal of how trauma fragments memory and reality feels painfully authentic, likely drawing from extensive research into catatonic states and grief-induced psychosis.
The recurring motif of the garden serves multiple symbolic functions—as burial ground, sanctuary, and metaphor for life continuing despite loss. The floral wallpaper becomes another character entirely, representing both the beauty Willow once saw in motherhood and the decay of her mental state.
Technical Mastery and Minor Criticisms
Still’s pacing deserves particular praise. The gradual revelation of truth unfolds at exactly the right speed—too fast and the emotional impact would be lost; too slow and readers might lose patience with the confusion. The author maintains perfect balance between clarity and disorientation.
However, some readers may find the non-linear structure occasionally frustrating. While the fragmented timeline serves the story’s themes, certain transitions between past and present could be smoother. Additionally, the clinical perspective chapters, while necessary for complete understanding, sometimes feel slightly detached from the emotional core of Willow’s experience.
The ending, though devastating, provides appropriate closure without offering false comfort. Still resists the temptation to provide easy answers or redemptive conclusions, staying true to the story’s unflinching examination of irreversible loss.
Comparative Context
“Bad Things Happened in This Room” positions Still firmly among contemporary masters of psychological horror. Readers familiar with her previous works—”My Darlings,” “We’re All Lying,” and “Beverly Bonnefinche is Dead”—will recognize her signature approach of examining ordinary people pushed to psychological extremes. However, this latest effort represents her most ambitious and emotionally complex work to date.
The book draws clear inspiration from Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper,” which Still explicitly references, but updates the concept for contemporary understanding of mental health. Like Gillian Flynn’s “Gone Girl” or Ruth Ware’s “The Woman in Cabin 10,” this novel uses an unreliable narrator to explore deeper truths about trauma and survival.
Similar Reads for Psychological Horror Enthusiasts
Readers who appreciate Still’s psychological complexity in “Bad Things Happened in This Room” should consider:
- “The Silent Patient” by Alex Michaelides – Another exploration of trauma-induced catatonia
- “Sharp Objects” by Gillian Flynn – Masterful unreliable narrator dealing with family trauma
- “Behind Closed Doors” by B.A. Paris – Psychological imprisonment and gaslighting
- “The Turn of the Key” by Ruth Ware – Gothic atmosphere with uncertain reality
- “Mexican Gothic” by Silvia Moreno-Garcia – House as character and mental manipulation
Final Verdict
“Bad Things Happened in This Room” succeeds as both literary achievement and horror experience. Still has crafted a novel that lingers long after the final page, not because of jump scares or gore, but because of its unflinching examination of how far the human mind will go to protect itself from unbearable truth.
This isn’t a book that provides comfort or easy resolutions. Instead, it offers something more valuable: genuine insight into the complexity of grief, mental illness, and the ways trauma reshapes reality. Still has created a work that honors both the horror of mental breakdown and the profound love that can drive someone to that breaking point.
The novel demands emotional investment from readers, but rewards that investment with a story that feels both deeply personal and universally relevant. For those willing to confront uncomfortable truths about motherhood, loss, and the fragility of sanity, “Bad Things Happened in This Room” represents psychological horror at its most sophisticated and affecting.
In an era of quick thrills and surface-level scares, Still has delivered something rare: a horror novel with genuine psychological depth that respects both its subject matter and its readers’ intelligence. This book confirms her position as one of the most important voices in contemporary psychological horror fiction.